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The Darkest Fantasy

It all started as an idea, a way to get back at some at the world that seemed so unforgiving to him. A joke with himself, that he decided to post online. Rape Fantasy for Hire. Many people fetishized rape while ignoring the true impact of it. And in theory it was possible to have a rape fetish played out...but if it was done even remotely right, it would have long term effects on someone. And not good ones either, which left most people with a half fulfilled desire. And so he had done his research, spent his time, and figured out a way to give someone the true experience of a rape fetish, without actually damaging them. Or, at least, the best interpretation of it he could come up with.

And so on April First he had put up a kickstart with several goals, that would allow him to start the business of satisfying people's darkest fetish. Honestly, he hadn't expected anything to come of it. Maybe a few, or several, hateful comments, a few joking donations, but nothing that would go anywhere. So he had exited the page afterwards and gone on with his day. But the very next day, when he checked his email, he found a shocking email that threw his world into chaos. Two of his five goals had been met, and there was talk about the possibility of it being real. Most thought it was a joke, but had been willing to donate to a 'good cause'. Three hundred dollars, enough to buy all the basic equipment needed to kidnap someone, and more.

Unsure what to do, feeling a sick sensation in his gut, the male had been torn with indecision, unsure if he wanted to really turn this into a reality. As he stared at the three hundred dollars though, he felt something for the first time in his life. A sense of confidence, and excitement. And so he had gone out, and bought the items he had told the people he would get. Set them all up, and taken pictures. Skin tight latex gloves, extra thick so they wouldn't tear. a mask that would disguise his features, and a full suit to keep all parts of the body from leaving a trace on a person. This way nothing could be traced back to him. And of course, several items to incapacitate a person carefully and gently so as not to damage their body.

He had a few other things as well, but those few things were enough to convince the people he was more than likely telling the truth. And within the week he had met all of his goals, with enough donated money that he could buy a small warehouse and the rest of his wish list of tools. He spent most of his own reserves as well to fill out the last bits of his wishlist that he couldn't reveal to the potential victims or police should they mistake his intent. He felt a rush at the very idea of what he was doing, the idea of being so completely in control. It was a heady mixture, one that overpowered the knot of fear in his stomach.

And so the day came, three months after he had started, that all the things were in place. The building bought, his working space set up, and the first 'client' set up. He wasn't honestly sure how many people had supported him, whether it had been a lot of small donations, or a few big ones. So before he set up the location at one of his favorite clubs, he set up a lottery. Having people enter in and letting a program randomly choose, and give directions to the winner. Now, on the eve of his creation's debut, he sat at the bar of his favorite club, watching for the person who would be his first 'victim'.

She was a draft horse of approximately seven feet and four inches. Her frame was muscular and strong looking, without an inch of give in her despite the clothing she wore. During her normal day, she preferred to wear business suits that accented her breasts and curves, while not making her look promiscuous. She kept rigid control over her section in a factory and was known as the slave driver by her colleges. Her black fur with white legs and muzzle aided in her professional look, and she always looked perfectly groomed for business. Her tail braided and tucked so that it would not give away anything during any interaction and her mane pulled into a ponytail so it wouldn't get in her way during the course of the day. She had an allergy to most nuts but other than that she was clean. Her medical history looked immaculate.

She was the perfect starter. Yet despite this, as she walked into the club, moving towards him, he felt his gut clench in terror. So many things could go wrong...and if they did it could be really bad for him. He was a small, Rosey Boa of a meager five foot straight, with slim build and a hairless body like all of his kind. During school there had been many jokes about him being queer since he had seemed almost effeminate in looks, and his timid nature had not helped. He'd never been anything but a low level shelf stocker in a super market nearby, and had actively avoided people when he could. He'd never had much control in his life, never been anyone important, and had always been too timid to try and change it.

But now, here he was, preparing to kidnap and fulfill the rape fantasy of a big league woman! He hadn't told anyone who he was, what he looked like, or anything. But still, he was afraid she might figure him out just by how loud his heart was beating. But, she moved on past him without even sparing him a glance. Her eyes moving right over him as if her weren't even there. A small sigh of relief escaped him, at the same time that he felt a burning humiliation start to overtake his fear. She had wanted HIM to satisfy her desires, yet she didn't even notice him! Was he so beneath her, in her mind, that he might as well not exist?! Gritting his teeth and turned back to the tender, a lovely owl that looked to be female, and ordered a coke.

For the next two hours he nursed three cokes, watching her dance on the dance floor with man after man. Each one tall, muscular, and 'perfectly' shaped. His fear quickly fading to a bitter anger that gave him strength, and boosted his confidence. Finally, after she looked tired, sweaty, and mildly dissatisfied, he knew the time was right. She'd expected him to come right out and tell her who he was probably. To strong arm her into doing what he wanted...but he wasn't able to do that. Sure he could probably choke her down...but then what? It wasn't like he was going to carry her back to the car! No, instead he slipped outside and went in search of her car. He had taken the bus to the club, knowing he was going to be...borrowing her car for this event if he went through with it.

So when he found it, a big sporty car of some sort, he really didn't care enough to actually know their names, he pulled out his coat hanger. Now, the thing about modern cars was, they had two sets of safety mechanisms. First was the lock, usually followed by some sort of alarm that had to be deactivated first. But he'd practiced for this, he'd learned how to disable an alarm without damaging the car to the point it would hinder anyone. Thanks to his species, he had pretty nimble fingers, and was quick to slip the door open and drop down inside as the alarm went off. Sticking a plastic driver into the casing, he popped it off and had the wires out within moments. Slicing through them with insulated clippers, he rewired it so the alarm would be 'off'. It wasn't technically off, but it wasn't going to make any more noise now.

Popping the panel back onto the frame, he slipped into the back and settled into the floor of the backseat. While on the floor he slipped on his mask and gloves, closing his eyes so he wouldn't be blinded and flinch when the lights came on, and patiently waited. Within half an hour the lights flicked on inside the car and the door opened. The car shuddered to the left as a very irritated horse dropped into the seat, slamming the door.

"Three hours wasted, because that asshole couldn't be bothered to keep his word! It really was all a sham, damn him!"

As the car purred to life, he felt a sick sense of pleasure at the fact she had no idea what was about to happen. She had thought it was going to be all according to some plan she had in mind, not what he had in mind. Pulling out the cloth rag, he doused it with the Chloroform, and shifted up carefully. Using one strong, thin arm, he grabbed her around the neck, and with his other hand, forced the cloth over her nose. He knew what would happen next. She'd breath in heavily, out of surprise, with her first gasp, and inhale a hefty dose of the sweet, thick scent. Next would be weakness of the muscles, drowsiness, and finally, oblivion as she passed out after a bit of struggle.

With his heart racing in his chest, he watched as her struggles quickly faded, and she slumped into the seat. Suddenly, panic stricken, he ripped the cloth from her nose and moved to listen to her neck, wanting to make sure she was okay. Sure enough, her pulse was strong and steady, if a bit slow. Leaning back, he sat there for a moment, stunned. He'd done it...he'd officially done it! He'd started his first kidnapping! Opening the back door, he slid out, slithered over to the front door, and opened it. Carefully, heaving and straining, he lifted her out and moved her to the back seat.

He was extremely grateful he had waited to do this until she was AT her damn car, because fuck was she heavy to him! Setting her down, he quickly bound her legs in a folded position, and her arms behind her back. A gag went into her mouth, like a bit, and a blindfold over her eyes. Ear plugs went into her large ears, and seatbelts held her sleeping form in place. Shutting the door, he slipped into the front seat, and sat there again. He'd done it...he had really done it! Mechanically, he started the car, shifting his tail to press lightly on the gas, he reversed out of the parking lot, and shifted into drive. Slipping out onto the street, with barely a hum, the car drifted off into the night.

There was no going back now, he'd committed to the act, and he would see it through. A shiver of anticipation went through him, as he thought of all the night had in store for him.

One tense hour later, the car set up in front of a warehouse only a few miles from the club. Hiding in plain sight, he had bought a small building and converted the basement into a place specifically for his work. Luckily he still had one of those trolleys that he had used to move heavy equipment around, the perfect thing to use to get the heavy horse downstairs. Of course, not exactly wanting, or able, to afford an electric elevator, he had sprung for one of those manual lift ones. Slithering quickly downstairs, he grabbed a blanket and some pillows, tossed them on the trolley and headed upstairs. He wasn't sure how long the chloroform would last, and he was to afraid to use more. He didn't want to actually hurt her! So he took his time to carefully move her from the back seat to the cushioned trolley.

Once that was done, it was a quick trip down to the basement and onto the special table he had prepared for this very reason. If you wanted to 'rape' someone without actually doing anything sexual to them, you needed to prepare something just as intimate, and he had. A heated metal table that was placed over a drain. He had also set up a plastic ring around the edges so any water that might not go immediately into the drain, wouldn't go elsewhere. He really didn't want to have to worry about mold any more than he would normally. Once she was on the table, it was child's play.

Just tie her arms to the table, then her legs, strip off her shirt and pants, and wait. It didn't take long for her to start stirring, trying to move, then panicking as she realized she was tied down, blindfolded, gagged and deafened. Standing up, he moved over to a small laptop, and activated the cameras. Once they were recording, he put on the voice modifier and slithered over into the ring, shutting the plastic door behind him. Slowly, taking his time, he moved around to the woman's head, and pulled out her ear plugs with his latex covered fingers.

In a voice that rumbled beyond his normal vocal limits, and flickered with distortion, he spoke. "I was not late, I was just waiting. Did you really think it would something as silly as me coming up to you and telling you I was ready for your appointment? This is not your game, this is mine. You wanted to play, but you don't get to be in control. You signed up for this, you asked for this, and now you will endure this. "

A muffled sound of fear came from her gag, as she tried to speak around it, despite the obvious impossibility of it. And he found himself smiling behind the mask. In the real world, he was nobody, he was a meek little snake that no one noticed or cared about. But here...here he was feared. Something he'd never experienced before. Power. He'd never had such complete control over another, or anything really, in his life! Taking in a slow breath, he lowered himself down a bit and stated clearly for her, his next set of instructions.

"You will be allowed to speak shortly here, and when you are allowed to, you will state your name, and your reason for being here. If you do not, I will do it for you, and I will tell you...everything about you. I will not repeat myself, so you had better understand."

With that, he reached down and undid the tie holding her gag in place, carefully removing it from her mouth. Of course, her immediate response was not to do as he said, but to begin begging him, pleading with him. The authority and control in her voice from before he had taken her, was gone. Now, instead, it was replaced with a softer, almost delicate sound. One he was used to hearing come from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I thought it was just a joke, or a role play! I didn't think it was a real thing! Look, I have money, I can give you however much you want, just please, let me go!"

Privately, he was pleased, amused, and enthralled by the change in the powerful creature beneath him. She had changed so much...and all it took was a new outlook. He could do anything he wanted with her! And she couldn't stop him...even if she wanted to.

Making a sound of displeasure, he sighed, and shook his head, more for the cameras than her. "Your name is Jenavieve, spelled with a Jay, and to your mother you are Jena. You are twenty eight, work at Barnbell's soup canning factory. You have no friends, and you are a strict taskmaster to your underlings. You make them suffer because you don't know what it's like to need a life outside of working. But you signed up for a session on a site. One with a simple concept. Rape for hire. You wanted to live out your darkest fetish, of being raped. That's why you are here."

She opened her mouth, a sob coming out of it, and before she could renew her pleas, he had the gag in once more. And no matter how she thrashed, she couldn't stop him from tying it in place once more, leaving her unable to talk. Tears stained her blindfold as she finally came to understand her true position. Slithering behind her head, he grabbed the shower head and turned on the flow, testing the water on his gloves. When he was sure it was warm enough he spoke again as he began to carefully spray along her right arm with one hand. The other used to rub down her fur so that the water could soak through.

"Now, rape is all about control, something you are probably familiar with. Rape, at the most fundamental aspect, is about taking all control from someone, for yourself. Now, most tend to go with sexual aspects of this, since it is the quickest way to break down another. Turning one of the most sacred and pleasurable parts of our life, and destroying the meaning behind it. Taking from you, your safety and your happiness. But, that is a destructive method that tends to be self defeating. If you do this, eventually it isn't enough anymore, and you get more and more wild, until you get caught. Or, you make a mistake and get caught."

He moved down to her fingers, carefully making sure to get the tops and bottoms of her arms, hands, and fingers. Then, when he was done, he moved on to the other side. He had taken precautions against his 'prey' taking chill from being wet, by heating up the room significantly. Since it wasn't a big basement, it wasn't difficult. As he began to work down her other arm, he continued speaking.

"And since I don't fancy ending up in prison, becoming some big ol' bear's bitch, I decided to go towards something more productive. Our world has made so many advances, in science, medicine, and even mentally, that it would be unrecognizable to our ancestors. So, why is it, that we haven't bothered to try and change the things in the past, that were considered bad? Rather, we just keep repeating them, without any thought for the damage they cause. But...if we could change them, to make them more...healthy and constructive, wouldn't that be so much better?"

He leaned in and made sure to let her hear him making sniffing noises, not that he actually had any real ability to smell by his nose. So it was more like he was just taking a few deep breaths for effect. "Speaking of change, you stink of sweat and other males." He moved around her, slipping down to her hooves, and checked to see what kind of care she had been giving her hooves. Sure enough, they were a bit dusty and dirty. So he began to wash them as well, careful not to let her get a chance to smash his fingers against the table however.

"So, for your session with me, you will be losing all control. You will lose the very thing you are so used to having, but in a constructive way. "

He gave her a few moments to absorb all the knowledge he had imparted upon her, letting her come to her own conclusions. "So, since I am not a trained stylist, we will not be working with your mane, hooves, or nails in any exotic ways. We will stick to the simple things. First, we need to wash out the sweat from your fur, then a good shampoo and conditioner treatment, a light massage to work out all the tensions I am sure you have accumulated...and then we get you back in your car with only a tiny reminder you were ever here."

He grinned to himself, watching the range of expressions on her face. The disbelief, hope, fear, and tension that left her in a sort of stunned trance. Cleaning out her right hoof, then her left, he left her to think about what was happening, and how likely it was he was telling the truth. Honestly, by most standards this probably wouldn't even count as rape. But, by the definition of the word, it didn't have to be sexual. Although that was how it had evolved.

As he moved up her left leg, he continued on with his words, soothing her with words, while enforcing his own will upon her. "Did you know, the original meaning of rape was simply to seize or take something by force?" He began to move up her long leg, careful once again to work his fingers into her fur and flesh, getting it all ready for the next stage.

"It later took on the meaning, that when someone committed the act or instance of robbing, despoiling, or carrying away a person, it was called a rape. Eventually it became specifically an 'unlawful' sexual activity and unusually sexual intercourse carried out forcibly or under threat. And they specifically said it was normally with a female or person beneath a certain age or incapable of consent!" He sighed, moving up to her knee and thighs, careful to avoid going to high with his fingers. "Can you believe that? No mention of males! If someone forced sex onto a male, no one cared, only with a female or minor." He shook his head, moving down to her other leg's ankle and starting over there.

"Anyway, I originally intended this to all be a joke, but then people like you came out of the woodworks. You put your faith in me and gave me money to get this off the ground. Sure, I spent most of my own money and finished getting everything set up." He moved up to her belly, and began to rub his gloved fingers along it as the water washed over her, washing away the taste of sweat from her fur, and giving her a glistening look. The temptation was real, she was helpless...she wouldn't be able to stop him. He could even say it was just part of the washing...

But he hesitated at the thought, staring down at the quivering flesh under his hand, he felt her tensing as he stopped moving. He shook his head, knowing he would ruin everything if he broke his word. Not just because it would become real 'rape'. But because it would shame him worse than any crime he could commit. With a gusty expulsion of air, he moved up to use the sprayer on her chest, cleaning her off where he couldn't touch. With that done, all that was left was her hair, but that would come later. Now he needed to move on to the next step. Grabbing a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of conditioner, shea butter scented and vanilla, he set them down on the table, and got to work.

Turning off the water, he picked up the shampoo and squirted a heavy dose into his hands and moved down to her legs. From there it was a simple process of rubbing in a light layer from bottom to top, avoiding any truly intimate areas, while still teasing her. A sensual treatment of her fur, from hoof to belly, then from shoulders to fingers. Next he took time to actually work them in, rubbing her down again and again until the suds nearly coated her. After this was done, he grabbed the shower head and started washing her off once more. He actually had no idea how to deal with fur, since he only had scales, but he guessed it had to be something similar to taking care of one's scales. Lots of repeated rubbing and such.

Next came the conditioner, with a repeat of the first show. Fingers working into the fur as deep as they could, rubbing out tension in the flesh and muscle, as he moved. Surely it was just like scales! It sure felt like scale care, simple and easy, but repetitive. He watched her squirm and shiver at his touch, but with each passing moment, relax a bit more. He could see her struggling with the concept of how powerless she was, and how little control she had. How much she had to trust him, and that feeling...it filled him with a thrill. He could feel his twin shafts growing hard and pressing out from his slit, pressing hard against the cloth that bound them in.

He knew that the cameras would pick up on this, and it would be shown how...aroused he was by her. By the control over her he had. But he did not act on it, for that was not what he was there for. Not yet at least. Maybe someday that would happen, but for now, he had a reputation to build.

With her fur taken care of, all that was left was her tail, mane, and of course, hooves. Seeing as how he needed to roll her over for this part, he hesitated. This was the part where things could fall apart quite easily.

"Now, for this next part, I'm going to roll you over, and you're going to do as I say. And if you don't, then I'm going to drop you off in the middle of a street just as you are now."

By playing into her reputation, he hoped to be able to manage her, since he doubted she would even entertain the idea of someone knowing what she looked like without clothing. Let alone everyone she met on her way home. Her reputation would be tarnished! So when he felt she had enough time to process everything he had said, and what it could entail, he undid just her right leg, and her right arm.

"Now, you are going to roll over, without touching your blindfold. You're going to lay on your belly, and you're going to wait."

And sure enough, after only a moment's hesitation, she carefully pushed herself up and rolled over. Once she was in position, he undid her left arm and quickly locked her right in its place, then locked her left arm down. Following suit with her legs shortly after, leaving her helplessly locked down face down on the table. Of course, this would leave her breasts quite squished and uncomfortable. Which was why he had taken further steps, and why it had taken him so long to get everything ready. Pulling out a pin on either side of the table, he carefully pulled on the table, pulling the top up to let a gap form.

He hadn't been able to afford something actually designed for it, so he had sawed through the metal table, re-soldered on some metal struts, and set up a way to stretch the top of the table to form a breast cavity. It made a bit of a grinding noise, but it wasn't painful, and it worked. He actually heard her sigh in relief as her breasts dropped down, taking the pressure off them. He doubted it was 'comfortable' but it was probably a hell of a lot more so than before.

Once more he gathered up the fur and hair supplies in one hand and the shower head in another. Turning on the warm water, he started with her mane, washing it down and rubbing in shampoo. Then a quick rinse, and another run down with the shampoo. His gloved fingers stroking through the soft strands, admiring the care she had taken so far. She might be a rather harsh woman, but she took good care of herself, or at least, the parts people normally focused on.

Of course, when he got down to her tail he could feel her tensing. Unbinding the tuck and letting the braid loose, he found something interesting. She seemed to take less care of her tail, leaving split ends and dried out strands along her tail. He carefully straightened it out and tutted at her.

"What do we have here? A flaw in your carefully constructed disguise? Couldn't be bothered to try and deal with something that wasn't easy? That wouldn't just submit to your demands?"

Once he had the tail all strung out, he began to wash it down, his fingers moving from base to end in long strokes. Of course, this caused a slight lifting of her tail, which hinted at her arousal. Which delighted him to no end really, since it meant that even though he wasn't doing anything overtly sexual, it was working. With a refreshed sense of confidence and purpose, he soaked her tail, lathered it with shampoo, and began to brush it out. Giving light tugs as he went, making sure to massage the base with his fingers as he worked. He wanted to drive her as wild as she was driving him! And as he washed the shampoo out, he flicked his tongue out, near the bottom of his mask, testing.

Sure enough, in the air, the taste of her arousal mixed with the butter and vanilla, spicing up the air with an earthy scent, rich and thick. As he started to rub in the conditioner he made a comment, off hand, in a way one might talk about the weather.

"Seems someone likes it when they have their tail worked on...is that why you don't do much with it yourself? To afraid of what it might do to you, how you might lose control of yourself and your desires?"

From the way she quivered at his words, he guessed he might be right. But rather than continuing to work on her tail, he left the shampoo on, and moved down to her hooves. Again, he hoped this was like scale care, and if he left it to soak, it would do more good. Moving back, he reached up and pulled down a single small cloth, and soaked it in the water. Next he moved to her hooves and began to polish and clean them again. Making sure they shined and sparkled. He didn't have any polish, and he wouldn't have used it if he did. Since she was still at risk of having her hooves get wet.

But by the time was finished, he figured it was time to clean her tail off and prepare her for the final step. With extra care, he cleaned out the strands of her tail hairs, working his fingers like a comb. When he was sure he had gotten everything out of her, he turned off the water and slithered over to a towel rack just outside the wall. Leaning over it, he grabbed several towels and set them on the wall before taking the first and working on her legs. Moving from hoof to thigh, sliding it under her legs as well to make sure she was thoroughly dry. He also made sure to dry the table so she wouldn't get wet again.

Going through several towels, he dried her back off as well, including her tail and mane. Last was her arms, sine he couldn't get to her front yet, and he wanted to be quite certain she wasn't going to run. All in all, he was confident he had in in the palm of his hand, and that made it difficult not to do a little jig of pleasure for him. From boss to victim, to confused survivor, she must have endured quite a trial, just as he had, in a different way. Now it was time to take the biggest risk, and really, test his control over her.

"I'm going to need to dry your front, and it will be more work for me if I have to do it while you are laying down. Since I can't touch your more intimate areas, I am going to need your help." He was counting on psychology for this one. Stockholm syndrome was his only hope for this situation, considering what he was about to ask. "So, I'm going to undo your bindings, and you are going to sit up. You will not touch your blindfold or gag. If you are obedient, I will not sedate you, and you can even dress yourself, and walk to the car when I am done. Then, after a short drive, I'll get out, you'll wait five minutes, and you may undo your blindfold. From there, you can go on your own way home."

He waited a few more moments and undid the bindings on her wrists, allowing her to push herself up, but not run. When she didn't try to move, he slipped down and undid her ankle bindings as well, and tensed up. Ready to leap at her if needed, and pin her back down, hopefully. His heart was going a mile a minute again, rushing in his ear drums. But, she simply pushed herself up, seeming to trust him at his word, and made no move to take off her blindfold. He silently sighed in relief and began his work, drying her off.

He even went so far as to hand her a small towel, "Use this to dry off the places I can't touch. You may stand up for this. I have finished working on everything else." Watching her as she stood up, hesitantly, wobbling only a bit, as she began to pat herself dry. He took a moment to just admire how she looked, turning towards one of the cameras, to make sure that the recording would make it clear he had known he was being watched.

After that, he helped her get dressed, making sure to re-tying her tail up and brush out her mane as she put on her clothing. He had to help balance her when she put on her panties and pants though, so she wouldn't fall over, or have to sit down again. After everything was ready, he hesitated only once more, before taking her hand. She seemed surprised, but then actually smiled, as he began to guide her to the elevator. As he guided her in, he pushed himself up and pulled out the gag from her mouth, pocketing it and starting to roll up the elevator with the crank. Making sure to take it slow, so they sounded much deeper than they really were.

After about three minutes of the elevator's soft groaning and creaking, she broke the silence. "Thank you. This was...not what I expected it to be, but in some sense, I think I enjoyed it more than I expected to."

He chuckled and shook his head, "I got that vibe from you once or twice, yes. Once in the car, and once again on the table." He couldn't help but grin, his erections still twitching now and again, at the memory of what he had done. She actually had the dignity to look embarrassed about that, and coughed into a hand. "Well, either way...um, is there...is there a way to sign up for another session? Perhaps with a bit...more?"

His grin grew under his mask as he thought about it, then nodded to himself. "Oh, there is, I'll send you an email through the Site, and you will get your date and instructions. It won't be done the same way, since you know about your car this time. Oh, and there's one last thing before we go." He pulled the elevator to a stop, and pulled open the doors. Taking her hand again, he led her forward towards a desk, now that they were in the more business like area of the Warehouse. He had a full living space in the second floor area, in case he needed to spend a lot of time there, but it he also still had his home. Just in case he needed to bail from the place, if things went south.

Taking her to the desk, he had her kneel down in front of it, and carefully pulled himself up, grabbing an ink brush. He had meant to do it downstairs, but in his clumsiness, he hadn't remembered until she had brought it up! "Everyone who becomes my Victim, will be marked for it. Nothing overtly visible, or permanent. Just a little sign, that I was there. You will take a picture of yourself with it visible, and post it on the sight though. Your face need not be visible. And if you are still interested in making a second trip..."

He trailed off, as he pulled her shirt open a bit, and began to draw. Carefully inking her fur, in a temporary tattoo designed specifically for furred anthros. He drew a simple design, of a black heart. "You'll make sure that you upload a picture of yourself, with this visible somewhere anyone can see it." He was no artist, so the picture was crude, simple, and effective. He chuckled and helped her stand up. Her mouth twisted in surprise as he helped her up.

"Wait, you're...not very tall!" She exclaimed, seeming genuinely shocked by the revelation. He laughed, a bitter laugh this time, and moved over to the computer on the desk, tapping a few keys, and popping open the CD tray. "No...no I am not tall. Nor am I big or burley, like those males you were dancing with back at the club. Don't you know? All rapists are cowards at heart. We aren't people who are confident in ourselves." He gritted his teeth and put the CD in a case, sliding back over to her. "It's why we Rape. Because, when we see someone so confident and strong, who looks down on us. We just want to feel powerful. Even once."

He pressed the CD case into her hands a bit roughly. "Not all of us were so blessed as you to get everything we wanted, and have the genetics to back it up. Think about that next time you just ignore someone or reject their feelings without any thought. How many people have you hurt, with your superiority and lack of caring about their very existence? In life, or in work. How many men or women have you rejected because they didn't meet your criteria?" He quickly headed himself off, taking a deep breath, and grabbing her hand, dragging her towards the door.

She didn't speak after that, and he didn't look at her, leading her to her car. Opening the door for her, he helped her in and slithered around to the driver's seat, still wearing his mask and cloak. Shutting the door, he turned to her. "The CD is a recording of everything that has happened. Keep it, or destroy it, I don't care. I have a spare, in case you try to go to the cops and claim something falsely against me. I won't use it for blackmail, or anything silly like that. I have a reputation to build. So I won't have anyone tarnishing it. But, hopefully, you can enjoy the contents as much as I did."

With that, he turned on the car, and pressed a button to open the bay door, so that he could drive out. Pulling the car out, he pressed the button again and watched the door close. Then, it was off to drive around the town a few times, to make sure she wasn't sure where they had been. But half way through the drive, Jenavieve actually broke the silence. "I don't think we can go through life without hurting others. But, I am sorry it has to happen. And for what it's worth, I don't think you're a coward. What you did was very risky, and brave."

His heart picked up, and he thought it must fill the car with its loud noise! But, sure enough, neither one spoke as he turned on the radio. The rest of the drive was uneventful, until they stopped at a gas station near the Club. He opened the door, and pulled out a twenty, pushing it into the gas pump, and carefully fit the pump into her car, so that it would top off what he had used. Only when he was certain he was calm enough, did he move back over to the door and lean in. "You may take off your blindfold in five minutes, and then drive home. But I recommend taking the gas pump out. I only thought it fair, since I drove your car, that I top it off. Oh...and thanks." With that, he closed the door, and slithered away as quick as he could, his heart still beating fast.

It didn't take him long, slipping off into an alley, and changed his clothing. Stuffing the outfit and mask into a bag, before putting the bag under his arm and slithering out a different end of the alley, and catching a bus back to his home. When he got to the door, his hands shook a bit as he put the key in, turned the lock and pushed his way in. Shutting the door and locking it, he just slid down to the floor. That had been, in all his life, the single most terrifying, and exhilarating experience he had ever had. He just sat there, breathing hard, his shafts still hard as a rock as he remembered what had happened, the feeling of that power.

But he managed to push himself up, and move over to his computer, plopping down in his chair, specially designed for snakes, and coiled himself up, before logging in and booting up the internet. Turning on his browser, and logging into his site. Sure enough, five minutes ago, uploaded from user WorkMare28, was the picture of the heart on her fur. He smiled to himself and just leaned back down into his coils. He needed a nap...the day had been stressful, and successful. His fame would begin to build. Soon he wouldn't just a nobody who worked at a grocery store. He'd be someone...